Death's Spectator
by Brit57
Summary: She can see Death. She can see who killed who. She is named Maria. What happens when she is crashed along with a certain convict? Rated M for Language.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Riddick nor Pitch Black. I wish though. This is my first time to actually writing a story, if reader's can give me an idea if it's good or bad or just plain sucks. I would greatly appreciate it. Enjoy!

Walking onto the deck where the cryo sleep containers were lined up against the wall, something felt different. Something bad was going to happen on the _Hunter Gratzner_. I looked up at my brother, Lawrence, to get a piece of contentment off him but only felt anxiety. We were supposed to be heading to a medical facility so I could be receiving psychological treatment. No, I'm not crazy, just odd. Oh, where are my manners, the name is Maria Cinder Rayne Victoria Bronson and I can see Death.

If you are wondering if I'm talking about the black cloaked figure with the wicked scythe, the answer is no. Death is much more than that. I've known and been able to see Death ever since I could remember. Death wears an all black business suit with a handheld. I guess if times changes and lots more people than usual, you need something more modern to keep up with the death counts. Death is a female. How do I know? I never seen her face, that is privileged for the dying, but her voice is very beautiful and husky, like a singers voice. I've also been able to see who is marked for death. It's like a black smoky appearance that shrouds people. Ever hear, doctors say that blood just won't wash off their hands? Well I can see who killed that said person. It's like a carbon piece of that person that was killed is always on them no matter if they scrub to the bone and change a set of clothes. It is always there.

My brother, Lawrence Michael Wayne Bronson VIII, trying to direct me to my container when something caught my attention. A mocha colored man blind folded with a horse bit in his mouth locked in his container. I stepped away from my brother to look closely at this man. He was quite a bit taller than me, shaved bald, and he definitely worked out. He was wearing everything in black; tank top, cargo pants and boots. It wasn't just the man that caught my attention but the death that surrounded him. My petite hands gently fell on the glass separating me from him to get a closer read on this man. He has killed so many but to insure his survival. I've seen his killing before on the news wave though it's different to see him first hand. I can't tell over news wave who is marked and who has killed. This man was the most wanted convict in the verse. The man that couldn't be held in hells cages. Richard B. Riddick. Everything about this man is wrong. Yes, he has killed but I know who has killed. No innocent blood is on his hands. Other convicts, prisoners, animals from hunting, and mercs.

My hand was yanked off the clear glass by a ginger haired man wearing police uniform. He was taller than me but than again who isn't. I read the name on his plate. Johns. The man has innocent blood on his hands. He has killed to ensure any capture, Riddick's capture, his bounty. Johns is a merc.

"I wouldn't be doing that if I were you. That's Riddick up in there."

"I'm not scared of him."

"You should be. He wouldn't waste carving a pretty face like yours up."

Johns tried to make me scared of him but I knew better. "I fear no man."

I mean why would I be. I see Death on a daily basis. "Riddick isn't a man. He's an animal."

"We are all animals, some more than others. It's the ones that keep it quiet are the ones that we should fear the night. What does that make you, Johns?" Johns had an evil glint in his eye when I started to speak some more, "Maybe you should be in those chains for killing innocent lives to secure your pay day even with that fake nickel slick badge. Riddick's innocent compared to you."

Johns was about to say something when Lawrence grabbed my arms yanking me back towards my cryo container. Riddick's temporary prison was adjacent to mine. I couldn't hear what Johns was saying to Riddick before his left for his cryo container but I could tell it wasn't pretty. The last thing I remember seeing was a slight flair of his nostrils and for the smoky black color surround my brother before the sleeping gas consumed me.

*Riddick*

_The say most of your brain shuts down in cryo sleep. All but the primitive side. The animal side. No wonder I'm still awake. Transporting me with civilians. Sounded like 40, 40-plus. Heard an Arab voice, some hoodoo holy man, probably on his way to New Mecca. But what route? What route? Smelled a woman. Sweat, boots, tool belt, leather. Prospector type. Free settlers. And they only take the back roads. And here's my real problem. Mr. Johns, the blue-eyed devil. Plannin' taking me back to slam only this time he picked a ghost lane. The woman from earlier. Smelled cotton, leather, vanilla cinnamon. Her words, saying that I'm innocent compared to Johns, replays in my mind. If this bit wasn't in my mouth, I would've laughed. She could tell past the fake uniform and southern charm, that Mr. Johns was nothing but a merc. I'm not scared of him. I fear no man, she says. How interesting. A long time between stops. A long time for something to go wrong._

*Maria*

Bright light piercing my container was very annoying. When I realized I'm on my back. I shouldn't be on my back. I should be standing. Something must have gone wrong. Trying to pull the lever to let me open my container broke off. Banging on the door so some could hear me. I wasn't going to die in this. This isn't going to be my tomb. Wrapping my hands from the abnormally long sleeve that I tore off. My hands went for the broken lever used it to pry it open. With no such luck, I just used rest of my strength to beat the glass a hard as I could just in case somebody else was alive. The fracture of glass set a wave of relief through my body. It was then the door to my container opened. A female with black wavy hair reaching my hand to help me out. "You're alright there?"

I just nodded my head to breath in the air but the air felt very tight as if there wasn't very much in the air. "You lucky we heard the banging on that there glass. We wouldn't have seen you," I turned to see a man dark skin color than the Riddick with black curly hair speak.

"Lawr- Lawrence? Where's my brother?" I asked to search for the wreckage.

"He's gone. He was one of the unlucky ones to be pulled out of the ship when we crashed," she says.

I was shocked. I never thought I would see Death claim my brother this early in life. Death is unpredictable. My hands went to my hair to grab the black tangles. There was no one left. No one in my family. Oh well, I will grieve for him later on after we get saved off this rock. I got up from where I was sitting to walk towards the light. Something else about this planet seems odd. It is coated in death. Black smoky appearance is thick everywhere especially where the termite spires off towards the distance. I noticed out of my peripheral vision, a black business figure. I looked at it closely to see Death standing at the termite spires. "Death is coming."

The sound of metal clinking on metal caught my attention. Curiosity got the best of me so I went to check to see where it came from. There was Johns cuffing Riddick's arms behind him around the support beam and feet to the grates. A loud male scream was back in the direction of the cock pit area making Johns head towards the scream. I took the opportunity to get a sneak peek at the escaped convict. I watched his head turn slightly. Probably estimating how far I am from him. I squatted in front of him as I watched his head follow my footsteps and nose flare. Riddick must have my scent. No surprise there. In and out of slams will teach a guy how to survive even if blindfolded.

The smoky mist surrounding him starting to dissipate. I read the mist carefully. He was so close to achieving his goal in killing Johns. Made me slightly chuckle. Hey surrounded by Death can twist your sense of humor plus I don't like the merc. I was about to say something when I heard familiar footsteps. I didn't want Johns to notice I was there so I scooted closer to Riddick's right side hiding myself his large frame and the support beam. I felt bad that he was handled like this. I heard a slight growl rumbling in his chest but it didn't scare me in the slightest. Once I saw the familiar blue uniform move off into the sun, I moved away from Riddick. I looked closer at the mist carefully. He plays a hand in the mercs death. "It will come soon. Look in the right place. His death will not be brought by your hands. With death comes freedom for a while."

I got up wiping his brow off with my bandaged hand to cool him off then left Riddick only to by cornered by Johns at the entrance. "Thought I told you to stay away from him. What did you say to him?"

Johns body was seriously raping my personal bubble. He didn't feel right. Not how Riddick's form seem to fit perfectly against mine. Bringer and spectator of death. I didn't answer Johns right away earning my body being flushed against his in a manner that made me want to throw up. In a demanding voice he asked, "What did you say to him?"

I could smell the dosage of medicinal drugs pouring out of his pores. Biting back the bile, I answered, "Only that in your death brings his freedom."

He snorts, "Riddick isn't going to kill me. Tried many times, he hasn't yet."

I looked at his smoky mist. It was spiking. A smile played with my lips as I say in a chuckling manner, "Riddick is not the one you should fear. Death is already here and has a claim on you."


	2. Chapter 2

Johns was about to say something until another set of footsteps being heard urging him to turn to it. I took the distraction off me to make my escape from Mr. Johns arms towards the light. Oh for fuck sakes, to freaking bright. Scanning the people that survived the horrific accident; an Arab with three charges, a snotty man by the way he held his form huffing and puffing about not flying couch ever again, the two people who helped me, a teenage boy, Johns and a woman crew member who stepped into the light, myself and Riddick. What a fucked up family. I stepped back onto the deck to hide in the darkness of the wreckage. All of the brightness was giving me a headache. Walking through the deck back towards where my cryo chamber is, I thought of what I saw. Something lurks here or the black mist would have gone. The black mist surrounds us as far as I could see. Death coats the ground in a thick blanket.

Pushing the black mist to the far corner of my mind I reached my cryo chamber, I crawled into it. Everything that I own is in a small storage locker to the right bottom compartment. Upon opening it, I was greeted with a brown leather messenger bag inside was rolled up pair of clothes, woman products, small sewing kit, wad of cash, music player, couple of granola bars and identification. Another little thought crossed my mind or more likely a tall tanned man. Richard B. Riddick. Riddick was still a person and being chained up as if we were back in the darker ages when men were Gladiators on that planet Earth. I started to crawl back out of the chamber but I was halted by a pair of legs stopping my progress. Looking underneath my arm then slowly yet awkwardly to see who was the person that stopped me. A pair of black cargo pants entered my field of vision and as I followed upwards, noticed that it was Riddick that was behind me.

Even before I can gulp, he had snatched my arm yanking me up to him. His body was flushed mine as I just stood there. I didn't even feel myself shake in fear. I was too engrossed by the close proximity of him. My body was humming in excitement. His head was moving over my collar bone and the crook of my neck. My breath came ragged since I felt his lips close. "You should be scared."

"I fear no man."

"So I have heard. I should kill you."

I turn my head to look up at the black goggles which he has over his eyes. "I don't fear death nor man. Death is always a constant company in my life. It does not scare me."

"Interesting."

Looking up at the man whose chest up against mine. His black goggles making it hard to the read the man. This man was a pure two leg predator. If I listened close enough I could hear his caged animal prowling, stalking underneath this man's exterior. It wasn't even an blink of an eye when I no longer felt his heat nor his breath. I looked around to see if I could find him though it seems that Riddick was long gone. My body still purred from his body. It was brought the excitement tenfold. A slight shiver ran down my spine as I remember how close his body was to mine. Breaking out of my trance, I left the cryo chamber to where the other survivors were.

I was introduced to Jack, Imam and his charges, Zeke, Shazza, Paris, and lastly Carolyn at the entrance of the ship wreck. All of them were clamoring for weapons that definitely needed to belong in a museum and not in Paris's antiquities. Shazza, the lady that helped me out of my cryo chamber, tried to hand me what looked like a long stick with a dinosaur tooth attached to it but I respectfully declined. "You need to something to protect yourself. I don't want something bad happening to you with that convict on the loose."

My head just shook, "No thank you. If it is my time, it is my time."

"Something a young lady like yourself should not say, you are much to young to say things," Imam says.

"We are all dying. From the minute that we are born, we are dying," leaving the little area where they had congregated. I am sure nobody really cared for my little speech. Man, I am such a morbid person. Some screws finally let loose. The brain to mouth filter has left the station.

I didn't really care for what they were saying about Riddick but I did hear Johns little end speech, "Maybe to take what you got. Maybe to work your nerves. Or maybe to just come back and skull-fuck you in your sleep."

"He sounds like a charmer," at that time I turned half way showing that I was that I was paying attention.

"At least he has more honor than you do Johns" with that I just walked out of the shipwreck to head towards a little shaded area under the wings not listening to the people coming out of the ship.

I watched them in silence. Studying everybody's moves. Being the outcast of the family has taught me to read body language. Shazza and Zeke were hard workers. I could tell that Shazza is scared but has a tough woman exterior and Zeke is cracking would hurt someone without meaning too. He is too spooked. Jack was very easy to read. The teen is ever the eager puppy but keeps himself closed off. Imam and the four Arabic boys are humble. Paris is scared out of his wits. And our newly promoted captain Carolyn is just sitting in the door of the crashed ship like she is deciding what should be done but I could tell she is holding her tongue so that she does not spill her guts.

Having this curse, is sometimes a burden. Seeing that some of the people before me are going to die after surviving. They had no idea that standing next to them was Death. Death was working on the little hand held. I wanted nothing more than to change the outcome of these people demises but I knew that if you try to change Fates design, you will cause more harm than good. I tried to change only one path and that ended up a horrible disaster.

Breaking my thoughts on things that should stay in the past if I wanted to pass this blanket of black ooze. There was talk about leaving to search for water before nightfall but I noticed something different about my eye sight. I wanted to place my thoughts into group session when Paris comes running around the wing aircraft. "You should come see this."

It wasn't much of a scramble more like a hurried walk to see what the mousy man has discovered. "Three suns?"

There was a bluish tint to show the newly arrived sun. The arrival of the third sun made the other two just as beautiful. It reminded myself of a dancing flame in front of me. The combination of the red, orange and the blue was a magnificent sight to behold. Even through my thoughts of the dancing flames, the black mist still heavily coat the land. "Why do you coat the land like black ooze?" I thought out loud.

Johns looked at me as I said those words. To his eyes, there was no black ooze, just endless blistering desert. I moved out of the sun back underneath the wing. There was talk about looking for water and that water should be towards the blue sun. I wouldn't be much help to the people that wanted to leave to search for water so I decided to help Zeke to the best of my abilities since I knew that Paris was not much help. Zeke thought it would be the humane thing to do was to bury the dead. Not just one person should have the burden to bury the lost souls so I thought it would be best that I helped the man to carry the burden. I grabbed the strap that Zeke tied to the makeshift sled. I didn't bother to listen to what little mousy man was saying to Zeke. Paris was sitting underneath the umbrella. This man was lounging sipping alcohol with his little fan. Even though I lived the life of luxury, it didn't contaminate me with such ways. As I helped the Australian speaking man, I thought of the life that I had.

My parents were wealthy people by long history of business. The parties that they hosted to outdo the others that were wealthy. The clothes that were extravagant as the next. The jewelry it self cost as much as 6 peoples income for the year. My mother sent myself and my brother off to learn proper etiquette. Years had passed and I was by that time twelve years of age when I walked through the 'lower' class. These people didn't have enough food to feed there own children let alone themselves. I could see young children bones and skins because they didn't have enough nutrition. I went up to these children to ask about there lives, it was the look of helplessness. These children wanted to live and be something. Even though there bodies were young, there eyes held so much. I looked at these children's black mist. It was weak but it indicated that these children needed more than what I had. I asked for those children to take me to their mother. Once I met their mother, I gave them all that I had on my person.

It was that day that I gave as much as I could to help others. The life of the luxury was not that great but giving to others was something that I would not forget. The luxurious and the everybody else was the same. We are all flesh and bone. I didn't flaunt the money that my family had. It was pointless. Seeing Paris sitting up there talking about luxuries was something that set my teeth on edge. I was brought to the present when I looked to see that Zeke was crawling out of the makeshift burial with the gun that Johns had given him. I started to follow the man out of the burial hole when I heard rocks sliding behind me. I peeked underneath tarp that Zeke had hung. I saw a grey like tail or at least that I thought was a tail wrap around the dead. It dragged the lost soul into the hole with great speed that I would have jumped back down into the burial hole to investigate such things when heard gun shots. My head and body shot straight towards the wreckage to what had happened. Every step that I took, I hoped that nobody was hurt. Skidding to a halt, I saw Shazza had blood splatter all over her face. She tried as much as she could to wipe the blood off her as well as Jack. Paris looked as if he was at his wit's end. Murmuring about seeing somebody get shot. I looked at Zeke who was holding his head in his hands leaning over a dead body that led into a storage container. Zeke would forever have the death of an innocent on his hands. No matter if he thought if it was the convict, he still had killed a living soul. I looked at Zeke carefully. Next to him, naked to any other person, was Death. Death did not evaporate like usual. She was here still. Somebody else was going to die.

I felt my heart lurch into my throat. My eyes scanned over everybody. Paris, Jack, Shazza, and lastly Zeke. Zeke was going to die. I wanted to stop the man from dying. It would bring horrible consequences. I shuddered at the memory of such things. I helped him carry the new lost soul to the burial site. It was then that Zeke noticed the hole. He crawled down into the burial hole reaching for the light that was strapped to his waist band with gun in hand. "Z-Zeke I don't think that is such a good idea."

"Don't worry. I'll be right out," he said with a smile.

"Please Zeke." The man did not hear my plea. He was already climbing into the hole. I jumped in sheer fright when I heard a scream coming from the hole then gun blasts. His legs were kicking around frantically. _Fuck the consequences,_ I thought.


	3. Chapter 3

~Disclaimer~

Ello! I want to thank every single one you all wonderful readers. I'm sorry that I haven't updated for a couple of weeks with work, my child, and a major writers block. Yet here I am and I am back in the game. Oh, I also have the new Riddick movie too! ~Drools~ Oops, sorry. Well with all of the movies, I would be able to get my story out there quicker. Well without further adu, Maria!

Acting on pure adrenaline, I jumped into the burial hole grabbed Zeke's legs. No matter how hard the man tried to back pedal out of the hole nor how hard I pulled, something was pulling the man with so much power that I was dragged along into the hole. It was very dark in the tight little crevice. I tried to crawl out of the hole when I felt something grab my leg. It pulled me out of the hole and did not stop until I felt a pair of hands around my waist. There was a little whooshing sounds that reached my ears when I saw a grey tail cut my face. The thing had cut me as I turned away from it, it had sliced all the way from my right cheek till underneath the right ear lodging a piece the very tip of it in between the collarbone. It was then that I heard a shriek of pain. I looked at the person that helped me but they were out of sight. The sound of the tarp had been pulled with sheer tug of it and the desperate yell of the man's name that I tried so hard to help was in pure anguish. It had broke my heart. Shazza noticed that I was covered in Zeke's blood with a very deep cut of my own. Her eyes traveled as well as mine to see Riddick in a crouch slowly standing up and backing away. The pursuit of Riddick from Shazza commenced. It took me a second to crawl out of the hole. _She thinks that Riddick killed Zeke. No, he didn't kill him._

When I got to the commotion, Shazza and Johns were beating the man that was already down, I snapped. With the adrenaline still pumping in my veins, I acted on pure instinct, I jumped into the fray as best as I could trying to shield Riddick's head and neck with my own body. The impact of boots and batons would have made me curl up into a fetal position but I was not going to back down. No matter if the man underneath was a convict and a murderer, he didn't kill Zeke. Every kick and hit made me grunt in pain which I was all to familiar with didn't stop me from trying to protect him. I felt a pair of hands trying to pull me out of the way but I clung to Riddick. It was then that I felt a hand grab my hair and my bleeding shoulder that I let go of the man. _Really pulling hair, what a bitch move, _was the only thing that I could think at the moment before the shocks of pain went to my head.

I yelped in pain when I felt sand connect to my body. I looked through the haze of pain that Johns was dragging the man back towards the wreckage. Shazza crying in Carolyn's shoulders. Jack trying to soothe the new widow. I felt a pair of hands on my shoulder to see that it was Imam with his three charges. "Child are you alright? You are covered in blood," he sounded concerned.

It was then that once the adrenaline wore off, that I felt the horrible sting on my cheek and body. I took off my outer garment to rid of myself of Zeke's blood as well as wiping my cheek. I growled in pain as I wiped off my face then wrapped a tourniquet around my collarbone. The sound of stomping footsteps caught my ears during my cringing of pain. My eyes looked up at the person to see that it was Shazza. "Why did you help him!? He killed Zeke! My Zeke! Why did you help him!"

A ringing sound rung in my ears as my head turned sideways. The black hair woman just slapped me. Fighting in any kind of way would have added full to the fire that was filled in that woman's core. The leaving of Carolyn and Shazza caught my attention as Imam and Jack helped me up. The six of us walked back to the wreckage when Johns came out of the ship looking annoyed. I guess he didn't get any answers from the convict. His blue eyes traveled to mine. The malice radiating from his looks alone would have stirred fear deep inside of me if it weren't for the fact that I was in pain. Imam directed me to the storage container where Paris looked mighty unpleased as he handed the pilgrim a bottle of alcohol. Imam had torn a piece of fabric before he poured the liquid of my cheek. It was enough to growl again in pain. I wanted nothing more to rip the person way from me if it weren't for two of the charges and Paris holding my arms. Imam placed the torn fabric and pressed hard on my cheek with his other hand on the back of my head. I let a strangled scream. It hurt so bad that I didn't hear three other people come towards me. When I was able to see through the haze of pain is when I noticed Jack, Carolyn and Johns. "How are you fairing?" Carolyn puzzled.

Growling again when I felt Imam pressing some more on my cheek. "Lovely," hissing in pain.

"She's an idiot to help that animal," Johns placed his two sense where it wasn't wanted.

"Why did you help him?" Carolyn ignored Johns as she questioned me.

I hissed once more then nodded signaling to Imam that I was okay to hold my the fabric to my cheek. "Riddick didn't do it. He didn't kill Zeke," my eyes then turned to the blue eye man, "and it was a cowardly thing to beat a man while he is down and for real Johns, pulling hair. That's even a bitch move in women standards." My eyes then traveled back to Carolyn. "He didn't do it. He didn't cut my cheek or stuck me. Whatever is in that hole, killed Zeke."

"How do you know her mind is not covering up the fact that Riddick was the true killer? What's that called, Post Traumatic Stress," Johns noted.

Jumping off the storage container doorway to step into Johns space. I looked that man in the eye with such anger, "I might be a lot of things but post traumatic stressed is not one nor am I a liar. I know what I saw. Riddick. Did. Not. Kill. Zeke." I took that time to step away from Johns with the alcohol in hand in search of my bag.

It was sitting on a crate about 20ft from the chained convict. I didn't bother to look at him as I grabbed the little sewing kit. Using the reflection on the bottle, I used it to stitch up my face and the hole in the collarbone to the best of my abilities. Five minutes in I heard the banging of metal on metal from the back where Riddick was then suddenly stopped. Arching an eyebrow, I shook my head and went back to work. It was only about 10 minutes after that I heard footsteps coming into the wreckage. Passing me was Johns. He went back towards Riddick. The blue eye man didn't even acknowledge that I was there which I didn't mind at all when I focused on stitching up my face. The sounds of a gun blast jerked my body into a straight up position. I couldn't hear much but once I did hear something it was quite clear that Riddick was still alive with a simple "Fuck you!". I went about my business of sewing up my cheek. I was focusing at the task at hand with such determination that once I felt hand underneath my chin and the other grabbing the needle out of my hand made me jump in surprise.

The smell coming from the person was masculine meaning that it could be either Johns or Riddick. I shuddered at the thought of Johns actually touching anywhere on my body that I tried to grab the needle while trying to force my head from the hands. "Hold still," it was definitely not Johns.

The voice had a much deeper vibrato than any of the males that I recent contact with. Calming my nerves into submission. The sheer thought of knowing that it was not Johns made me feel better. It was another 20 minutes when I felt Riddick finished the last stitch. Looking at the man that helped me probably because I helped him. This man was an enigma to a certain point. I stood myself up with bag in trying to pass the bottle of alcohol to Riddick. When he had taken the bottle from my hand his hand left my cheek, "That was a bold move? Trying to get killed."

I looked up at Riddick's black goggles, "I am aware of the consequences. I felt them one too many."

I took the time to leave into the sun. This man pure intimidating. Power and strength coming off this man was daunting.

*Riddick*

I felt them one too many,

I watched the woman walk out of the wreckage. Even to myself that was something odd for someone to say. Still this woman was a mystery that needed to solved. I watched her segregate herself from the other survivors sitting underneath the wing. The look on her face was vacant as if she was staring at something that nobody else could see. Her light honey eyes hollowed while I walked to the make shift sleigh that Johns was going to have me pull. The group was talking about a little settlement that was about two hour walk from the wreckage. Everybody but one decided to walk ahead of me while I pulled the make shift sleigh. The light honey eye woman was walking adjacent from me. From the corner of my eye, I could see her self bandage on her collarbone. Blood stains fell down her outfit staining her clothes. Her dress was two different colors and fabrics. The darker brown was leather in a form of a halter top dress with the rest of her shoulders and to her shins was covered in a sheer brown lacey fabric. Every now and then seeing her wince with a slight stretch of her body, to work out the pain.

The woman tried shielding me to the best that she could. Why would she try to take the blunt force of the attack from Johns and the new widow? I was nothing but a convict and a murder. _I don't need pity, _I thought disgustingly.

*Maria*

Walking to the settlement that was about two hour hike was so entertaining that I could count my hair strands in my face. The pain from the beating and the accident was throbbing all over my body. I heard something fell to the ground and a light little scuffle is when I looked up turning towards the sound. Paris had dropped one of his bottles of liquor. Watching the little chat between Riddick and Paris gave me a slight chuckle as Paris went dashed right beside me. It was then that I was walking beside Riddick. All this time I could feel his eyes behind the black welding goggles on me. Probably trying to put a puzzle together in his mind. I looked at Riddick to my right peripheral with a smile on my lips, "Penny for thought?"

Nothing was said until we came upon what looked like trees but according to the mist, it was a dead body. These humongous bone have been dead for years. It was amazing and foreboding sight to behold. All this time was quiet between Riddick and I as we walked beside each other. "I was wondering what you meant, 'His death is not brought by my hands'?"

I barely looked at his direction, "Easy, you aren't going to kill Johns. His blood is not going to be on your hands."

Placing my hands behind my back as I continued to walk beside Riddick to the settlement in silence. I could tell that he was still a little bit confused by my little statement. The silence between us was welcoming. Being next to him focused my other thoughts into a stand still letting a calm wash over. "Why a little thing like yourself try to protect me from Johns and her?"

"I guess it was part of the consequences," I shrugged.

"Consequences?" he asked in that deep baritone voice.

Wincing could be seen visibly in my eyes, "Being able to see someone is going to die is a curse. It is like a black smoke that surrounds them. Eight years ago, when I was 17, I had my first time ever of the consequences. You think that having this curse, I could stop Death from taking people that I love. A hungry man held my brother, Lawrence, at gun point. Lawrence was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I followed my brother that day to see the man with a gun underneath his chin. I snuck behind them and threw a rock at the end of the alley. The man was struck with a small rock that was in my hands. He is still alive to this day…."

"The point is?" he interrupted.

"Lawrence was supposed to die. He was supposed to be a stain on that man's hands. I intervened and Death is not forgiving. She is like a Hydra. Cut one head, two more shall arise. Two days later, a convict escaped on Philas 4 that was supposed to be transported to a slam. He came across my parents. I was with them. That man had bound and gagged all three of us in our home. He had murdered my father with slow cut into his chest. My father's heart was in his lap. My mother was murdered with 1,000 cuts and her corpse rapped. The man looked at me. He used my arms and legs to tie me to the ottoman. He had used the serrated knife. When the police had found him, he was still cutting me. He had cut my arms, back, thighs to the point that I looked like a nine tail whip was used. The blood loss put me into a coma. I woke up a 3 months later in the hospital," my words drifted off leaving terrible silence.

The phantom pain of the memory was starting to hurt. Riddick was still walking along beside me. I couldn't tell what was going through his head. I wanted to ask but I didn't want to know. I guess it was something should be left as is which I didn't mind either. The walking convoy had arrived at the settlement. I left Riddick's side to see what could be found.

~~~~ There you go readers! More juicy detail about Maria and her abilities. Please review! It inspires me! ~~~~


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